


Baby Talk

by aberdeenrose



Category: British Royalty RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aberdeenrose/pseuds/aberdeenrose





	Baby Talk

Camilla laid on the floor on her back, a small pillow under the small of her back. It was the only position she was comfortable in anymore. Seven and a half months in, she was ready to pop the baby out. Charles’ never ending attention didn’t help much either. She loved him to death, she really did, but sometimes she just needed to be alone and watch her soaps, or read a book, or nap. Lately Charles had been next to her every split second of the day. Since the doctor had ordered her to bed rest, he had cut back on his engagements by half.   
At first she was completely fine with it. The pair would lay on their oversized, over stuffed bed and Charles would rub her swollen belly, and even better, her swollen feet for as long as she liked.   
But then he’d sit there and ask her, time and time again, how she felt, how her feet were, how her back was. Camilla was going nuts.   
The ceiling wasn’t very entertaining, but she’d managed to watch the entire series of both her favorite soaps. Now she was out of shows and tired of reading book after book—something she never thought would ever happen. All she could do was talk on her mobile or the staff—and she sensed many of them had tired of bland conversations with her. She couldn’t blame them, they were mostly one sided anyways. What could she offer if she sat in bed all day?   
Beth and Bluebell rest on either side of her, they knew something was up. Something was different about Camilla and they could tell. She scratched their heads.   
“I know,” she sighed. “I know.”   
Their whole lives would change now. The public had five months to get used to it—for the most part it had brought attention to menopause babies and now Camilla was the poster woman. Like she needed that on her plate now. But to Charles and Camilla, the public hardly mattered. Their families mattered more than the public. They both had grandchildren that would have an aunt or uncle much younger than them. And Camilla was pushing sixty-two. Sixty-two. There were complications that came with that as well. So far, everything had gone well. 

The door shut quite loudly, startling Camilla awake. She stretched her legs, pointing her toes at the door and her fingertips at the wall.   
“Mmmm, Charles?” She smiled. That nap had been exactly what she needed.   
“Darling! You can’t be on the floor!” Charles kneeled down next to her, and ran his hand over her forehead, brushing hair from her face.   
“I’m fine, it helped my back.” She rolled onto her side, her bulbous belly nestling against the pillow that had situated with her.   
“Let’s get you up.” He tried to help her, but Camilla wasn’t ready to get up. She didn’t want to. She hadn’t laid on the floor in years. And now she just wanted to stay there.   
A dull throb of pain hit her abdomen.   
She squished her face.   
“Are you alright?”   
“Yes,” she paused, rubbing her stomach. “I’ll be fine. Just stiff.” 

Camilla sat across the table from Charles, a nice, big, juice steak in front of her. Her appetite was a yo-yo, she never knew if she would be able to actually eat what was in front of her, which proved problematic at Christmas.   
She cut into a piece of steak and before she could chew it, another pang hit her abdomen. Her hand clutched onto the knife so that her knuckles turned white.   
“Darling,” Charles reached out to her hand, and ran his fingers over her knuckles. “Is everything alright?”   
“Yes, just some false contractions.” She gritted her teeth and eat the bit of steak.   
Charles flashed her a look that said otherwise.   
She got through the rest of the meal without another pain. The pair retired to their apartments and turned on an old movie. Camilla rested her head on his shoulder, watching the movie intently.   
She drifted off to sleep, the sound of the movie in the background.   
And then she felt a hard, extremely painful stab of pain. She jerked upright, trying to situate into a non-painful position. Camilla dug her hand under her ribs.   
“Darling.” Charles turned to her, serious as ever. “Something is wrong. It’s not contractions is it?”   
“It shouldn’t be.”  
“How far apart are they?”  
“Not even enough to notice.” And then another.   
“Do we need to call the doctor?” Charles moved from the sofa toward the phone.   
“No, they’re probably Braxton Hicks. I had them for weeks with Laura.”  
He looked at her, plain faced.   
“Fake contractions.” She stroked his face, and leaned forward to kiss her. “It’ll be fine, just uncomfortable.”   
“Well, let’s go to bed then, maybe that will comfort you.”   
She yawned after agreeing with him.   
Camilla pulled on her black silk nightgown that Charles ordered especially for her bed rest. “That way you can be the most beautiful mummy-to-be,” he’d said. She dabbed lotion onto her elbows and knees before crawling into bed.   
Charles fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. He laid his hand over her swollen stomach and snored into the night.   
Camilla, on the other hand, found no comfortable position. She tossed and turned for hours before she slipped from under Charles’ arm. She pulled her robe tight around her and walked to the window. London was alight even so late at night. She’d had times where she’d been out all night. Sometimes with Charles, most times with other men. But now she was married to the love of her life—the father of her last baby.   
She hoped it was her last baby. For the love of God, she’d figured she had started menopause when the doctor told her that she was pregnant. Pregnant at sixty-five. That hardly happened to women anywhere, so of course it would happen to her.   
Charles’ mum had almost died of laughter when they’d told her. They themselves hadn’t come to terms with it.   
“Well you best start now, that stomach of yours won’t get any smaller,” she’d said. Charles had scolded his mum for not being serious. “Well of course this would happen to you two. Just accept it.”   
Those words had rung in Camilla’s mind since then. Just accept it. Accept what? When her child turned five, she’d be seventy. She couldn’t even imagine herself being seventy, let alone seventy with a bloody child! The first few months, she’d broken down multiple times. She would be strong when the child arrived, but until then—she’d do whatever the hell she pleased.   
She ran the tips of her fingers over the top of her belly.   
Another pang struck her. Camilla bent over, leaning on the window sill.  
“Ughh, really?” She whispered.   
She sat down in the chair that faced the window.   
A few minutes later, another pang.   
“Charles,” she whispered, shaking his shoulder. The moonlight bounced off of her ring, making it sparkle.   
He grunted and rolled over, looking up at his wife.   
“What’s wrong darling?”   
Camilla looked straight into her husband’s blue eyes, not letting the contact go. She rubbed her belly, biting into her lip to hold back the pain. The two dogs barked at her feet, aware of the trouble.   
“I think—I think we need to go to the hospital.” She let out a muted groan, these were definitely not false contractions anymore. Another one hit her, this time she couldn’t keep quiet.   
“Darling!” Charles rushed to her to help her stay standing. He walked her to the bed and got her situated on the edge of the mattress. “Stay here,” he whispered.   
Charles kissed her on the lips. He went searching for ‘the bag’ and found it at the doorway of the walk-in closet. A light knock sounded from the doorway. Charles opened it to find Amy, Camilla’s favorite servant.   
“Sir, I heard some distress as I was heading to the quarters.” Charles was wide eyes and frantic.   
“Amy,” Camilla called out to her. “Hospital.” She held fast onto the bed post until her hand hurt. Camilla felt her water break. “Now! We have to go now!”  
“Yes,” Charles said. “We’ve got to go—‘Milla, she’s out of sorts.”   
“It’s the baby Charles!” Camilla was almost screaming with pain now. She curled into the fetal position, trying any way to rid herself of the pain. It helped, but only a small amount.   
“Yes ma’am.” Amy rushed past Charles and double checked the bag. “Everything is in here.”   
Camilla watched her in a flurry move from the bag to the closet again. Amy reemerged with a huge dress and coat. She walked over the dress and urged her to stand.   
“It will be quick,” Amy told her. “Remember ma’am, we chose this dress because it slips over your head.”   
Her voice was calming and cool. Camilla took a deep breath and sat upright. She slipped her feet onto the floor and reached out for Charles. Tugging the nightgown up and over her shoulders, her stood in awe—even now as she was in pain, her beauty was still stunning.   
Amy assisted pulling the dress over her shoulders. Another contraction shot through her.   
“We need to go now!”   
Charles, with one arm around the back of his wife and the other clutching her hand, walked her to the front door where a car was waiting for them. She held his hand so tightly that he himself felt pain. Tossing the bag in the trunk, Amy wished them well before heading back inside. 

 

The hospital had been prepped on the upcoming visitor. They had already made a plan of attack—Camilla would have a special delivery room, an extra chair in case he spent the night. There the newest Windsor would be born. Sex unknown to the parents, they would have everything they might need for a late in life mother.   
It was two thirty in the morning, late enough that many of the streets were empty, as was the hospital, save for a few drunks that had gotten into a fight.   
A handful of nurses and three doctors stood outside of the emergency entrance. Two large male nurses assisted her out of the car and into the wheelchair. The contractions had caused her enough pain that she was sweating profusely. She plastered a smile on her face until she was ushered into the elevator.   
Camilla took deep breaths and reached out for Charles’ hand again. Her finger nails dug into his hands.   
She was rolled into the room that had been prepared for almost a week now. The doctors and nurses transferred her into the bed with ease.   
“How many minutes are the contractions apart?” One nurse with a clip board started with the question.   
“Just a few minutes. They didn’t start far apart either.” Camilla held out her finger for the heart monitor. Another nurse started an IV for her. The doctor lifted her legs into the stirrups and slipped some rubber gloves on.   
“You Highness, are you to stay for the delivery?”   
“Yes, I will.”  
“Eight centimeters dilated,” the doctor told the nurse. “Not quite where we want you, but we’ll get you started on your epidural.”   
He smiled at her, a welcoming smile, even this early in the morning. 

 

Once the medicine was flowing through her, Camilla hardly felt the contractions. She squeezed Charles’ hand again. Her chest heaving with each deep breath.   
Charles ran his hand over her forehead.   
“You are so beautiful Darling. And soon we’ll have our beautiful little angel.”  
Camilla kept her eyes closed when the contractions hit.   
“I’m just ready—for this baby to be out.” She smiled faintly.   
“I know, I know Dearest. Soon.” 

“Push ma’am, one more big push.” The doctor urged her.   
A baby’s scream pierced the room and Camilla tossed her head back against the sterile pillow. Her breaths, which had been deep, were now shallow and quick.   
“It’s a girl!” The doctor held the screaming baby back. “Sir, you wanted to cut the cord?” He pointed to where Charles should cut. A smile plastered on his tear stained face.   
“Can I see her?” Camilla asked, breathless.   
“They’ve got to clean her first, Darling.” Charles kissed her damp forehead. “She’s so beautiful. So beautiful.”   
Camilla tried to sit up to see the baby, but the nurses were surrounding her. “Is she okay?”   
“Yes Ma’am.” the nurse repeated the length, weight, and stats to Camilla. Charles, with new camera in hand, snapped away, photo after photo. “Here you are ma’am.”   
The other nurse helped Camilla sit up on the bed, waiting for the baby to be brought over. Camilla watched the neutral pale yellow blanketed bundle being brought to her. The cries were slightly less now, but still prevalent.   
The nurse laid the tiny bundle on her chest. The beating little heart thumped against her chest, sending a thu-thump –ing rhythm against Camilla’s flesh. All of her children were beautiful; Tom, Laura, and now this small bundle.  
She and Charles had never really decided on a name, either way if it was a boy or girl. Camilla had been holding a name in her heart that she wanted to share, but hadn’t been ready. There had been many royalty with the name, more in Spain but still. Mother looked down at her new child. She thought the name would fit well, but she didn’t want Charles to turn her down.   
“Right now, we’ve got to take the baby for a few tests and then she’ll be back in your arms, Ma’am.” The doctor folded his hands behind his back.   
“Tests?” Camilla clutched the baby tight to her chest, Charles shifted on the edge of the chair.   
“Yes, baby seems fine. Lungs are functioning at normal rates, there’s no serious discoloration, cries are obviously strong, but she is a few weeks early. Even at her weight, there could be something hiding, probably not,” he stressed his words, “But we need to be sure. And after the tests, we’ll have her right back in your arms.”   
Camilla sighed, she kissed the top of her head and nuzzled the large amount of blonde hair before the nurse came over to her.   
Once the doctors and nurses were out of the room, with only one left, Camilla looked to Charles for help. She scooted over so that Charles could sit next to her, and leaned her head on his shoulder. It was comforting, this position. She worked on her deep breathing, things that her yoga instructor taught her.   
“Darling, she’ll be fine. You heard her cries. She’s loud and very much well.” Charles repetitively stroked her hair to calm her.   
The nurse cleared her throat. She was the oldest of the nurses, but still young, Camilla guessed late forties, if that. Her long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore light pink scrubs.   
“If you don’t mind my input Your Highnesses,” she did a sharp and fast curtsey. “I’ve seen many babies born before their due date, and your baby will be fine. Maybe some jaundice, maybe she’ll have to stay here a few extra days just to be sure, but she’ll be fine.”   
“Thank you,” Charles said. he looked down at Camilla and gently shook her.   
The nurse left the room after checking Camilla’s vitals and the new parents were left alone.   
“I suppose we should chose a name for our little one?” Charles kissed the top of his wife’s head.   
“Names more like it,” she scoffed.   
That would be the hardest part. Because it wasn’t bad enough that they couldn’t figure out what they would call her, they also had to follow up with a string of names.   
“I like Rosalind,” he started.   
“Yes, as a middle name. Maybe both gran’s names for middle names? I’d like something different for her name-name.”   
“Her name-name?”  
“Yes, what we will call her. The public.”  
“Do you have any ideas?”   
She stayed quiet before speaking. “I have one.”  
Charles motioned for her to continue.   
“Josephine?”  
Her husband looked ahead at the wall, his lips pursed in thought.   
“Yes, I like the sound of that, Josephine Rosalind Elizabeth Mountbatten Windsor.”


End file.
